Petty
by LadyDivine91
Summary: There are two ways to hurt someone - intentionally and unintentionally. Sebastian manages to do both during the course of one argument. Kurtbastian. Kurt H. Sebastian S.


_**Notes: Warning for mention of blood (minor).**_

"Get out of my kitchen," Kurt commands when he hears the door he just stormed through swing open behind him.

"Not your kitchen, sweetheart," Sebastian snaps, brushing by Kurt, infuriatingly close, on his way to the refrigerator. There's no need. The kitchen is big enough to accommodate them both without them stepping over one another. Sebastian did it on purpose. He did it to make a point. "This was _my_ penthouse before you and I ever hooked up."

"Yeah, well, I live here now. My name's on the lease. I even pay rent."

"So, it's _half_ your kitchen."

"I buy the groceries," Kurt presses, pulling spices off the rack and taking cans out of the cabinets, anything to avoid the fridge until Sebastian gets his beer and gets out of his way. "The pots and pans are mine, the dishes are mine … the _knives_ are mine. It's _mostly_ my kitchen."

Sebastian leans against a far counter and cracks open his bottle, but he doesn't take a swig. He didn't really want a beer; he just didn't want to leave things the way they were, with Kurt pissed off at him and his (admittedly) obnoxious attitude. Sebastian thought if they could move their 'discussion' into the kitchen, the one place Kurt feels calmest, Kurt might see that regardless of what Sebastian said, _he_ was overreacting.

Barring that, Sebastian wanted to stay on Kurt's nerves.

"Way to be petty, Hummel."

Kurt slams a can of chicken broth on the counter, his free hand gripping the edge, keeping him from chucking the can at his boyfriend. " _I'm_ being petty?"

"Yup."

"A-ha. So what do you call what _you're_ doing - standing over there with your beer instead of drinking it on the sofa?"

"I'm supervising." Sebastian smirks and finally takes a swig. It hasn't been in the refrigerator long, so it's warm, and tastes flat.

But needling his uptight boyfriend? That tastes _good_.

Kurt drums his fingers on the countertop, formulating a comeback, but gives up in favor of starting dinner.

"Whatever." With his left hand, he grabs a carrot; with his right hand, a knife. With one hard swipe of his blade, his hacks off the top (rather symbolically, Sebastian notices), then starts slicing. After the carrot, he moves on to an onion, then a potato. Sebastian scans the countertop at the rest of the ingredients – oregano, garlic, a yam, a pound or two of beef wrapped in butcher paper.

Stew. Kurt is making stew.

His mother's stew, to be precise.

It's Kurt's go-to comfort food. He reserves it for those days when the world weighs heavy on his shoulders. And Sebastian makes it with him, to remind Kurt that he has someone on his side.

But Kurt is making it alone this time while Sebastian stands in the corner, acting like a dick.

And now Sebastian _feels_ like a dick.

Sebastian watches Kurt search his ingredients, his hand groping the spaces between for something he apparently thought he'd gotten. A second glance and Sebastian knows what Kurt is looking for. And no, it's not there.

Celery.

Kurt forgot the celery.

Seeing as Sebastian is closest to the fridge, Kurt is probably not too eager to get it.

Sebastian pushes off the counter and opens the fridge door. He grabs the package of stalks and carries them to the sink. He separates a few, gives them a good rinse, then grabs a knife from the butcher block and begins to slice. Kurt must peek over to see what he's doing because Sebastian hears him sigh.

"I don't need your help."

"I'm not helping," Sebastian claps back. "I wanted some celery, so I'm chopping some celery."

Kurt scoffs. "You're going to eat _five_ whole stalks of celery? You can barely stomach _one_."

"So what if I chop up extra? Are you really going to let it go to waste?" Sebastian sweeps his pile of chopped celery into a bowl. He walks it over to Kurt's side of the kitchen and sets it down beside the cutting board. Kurt doesn't look at it. He doesn't say thank you. And even though it should be browning in the pot with the carrots and the onion, he shoves it aside next to the other unchopped ingredients and moves on to the garlic cloves. Sebastian shakes his head. He goes back to his side of the kitchen and continues to lean against the counter.

Stubborn. Kurt is so frickin' stubborn.

But then, that's an affliction they both suffer from, hence why they're fighting in the first place.

Sebastian doesn't try to lend another hand. As far as he can tell, Kurt has things covered. Kurt cooks to clear his head. Sebastian should probably consider being decent human being for once and leave him to it. But watching Kurt chop and peel and stir is so mesmerizing, Sebastian can't bring himself to leave, even if his presence causes Kurt's shoulders to tighten and his back to lock painfully straight.

In the midst of this dance, Kurt lifts his head. With one hand resting on the package of beef, he looks around for his meat slicing knife. When he doesn't see it anywhere on the counter, he turns slowly in the direction of the knife block … sitting beside Sebastian's right elbow. There his meat slicing knife is, its handle jutting out of its metal holder. Kurt sighs as if he just witnessed his favorite thing in life disintegrate into thin air, his shoulders slouching till his fingertips reach his knees. Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"Here." He reaches for the knife. "Allow me."

"No." Kurt hurries over with an arm outstretched, determined to grab it before Sebastian can touch it. "I've got it."

"I said I'll get it. I'm right here."

"No need, thank you." Kurt manages to wrap his fingers around the handle before his boyfriend can. "I'm perfectly capable …"

"I'm not saying you're not capable."

"Oh, you're not?"

"No, I'm not, Kurt! I'm just trying to be …"

Kurt being Kurt, he doesn't back down. He holds fast to the handle of the knife, willing to keep it there and wait Sebastian out. But Sebastian being Sebastian, he forces his hand underneath Kurt's, weeding beneath Kurt's fist till he can wrap his fingers around the handle and yank it free. He does, pulling the knife from the block and forcing Kurt's hand out of the way.

But not far enough.

The blade misses Kurt's fingers, but slices neatly through the pad of his thumb. A small ribbon of blood blossoms from the cut.

"… nice," Sebastian finishes, staring at his boyfriend's hand in shock. But Kurt doesn't seem fazed.

He seems tired.

Sebastian carefully puts the knife down and reaches for a clean paper towel. He takes his boyfriend's hand. Kurt doesn't pull away. He doesn't want Sebastian helping him, but he's too tired to fight anymore.

Which should make Sebastian the clear winner of this standoff. But he doesn't feel like a winner.

He feels like the biggest loser on the planet.

Kurt doesn't object as Sebastian wraps his thumb up in the towel and applies pressure to stop the bleeding, doesn't withdraw when Sebastian raises his hand to his mouth and presses it to his lips.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian whispers across the tips of Kurt's fingers.

"For what? For stabbing me?" Kurt jokes, his acidic tone tempered by that exhaustion that seems to seep from his body faster than the blood from his cut.

Sebastian's first instinct is to point out that he didn't technically _stab_ Kurt, but he's smart enough to know that that's not the route he should take. "For everything. But especially for acting like a humongous jerk. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I guess … I'm just good at it."

"I don't forgive you yet," Kurt says, breathless with latent anger, and a hint of fear. Because after all the years they've been together, all the fights and the making up, Kurt is still afraid there will come a day when Sebastian will kick him out.

Sebastian understands that. It's a miracle Kurt ever agreed to date him in the first place. Six years later, here they are, but during every fight, Sebastian wonders if it will be their last. Will Kurt finally call it quits and go? After Kurt turned to leave the living room, Sebastian was sure he was on his way out the door.

When he saw him make a beeline for the kitchen, his sigh of relief could be heard straight to the moon.

"Fine," Sebastian says. "But do you still love me?"

Kurt's face softens, the lines that so clearly translate his feelings of hurt and defeat smoothing into one of his signature smiles. "Yes. I still love you, you big schmuck." Sebastian chuckles and leans in, daring a light kiss on Kurt's lips. And Kurt lets him. Sebastian risks a bit deeper, accidentally squeezing Kurt's hand in the process, pressing the cut on his thumb too hard. Kurt hisses. He glances down at his thumb, a fresh spot of blood staining the white paper towel, and frowns. "Some days more than others."


End file.
